


the work don't stop ('cause they don't stop)

by andfinallywearehome



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: F/F, chandler is the wade to monica's kim possible, monica kicks ass and takes names, spiderman!au, this is both a blessed and a cursed concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andfinallywearehome/pseuds/andfinallywearehome
Summary: The frown that pinches her brow tells Monica when she peels back enough to catch a glimpse of the black eye, still angry and dark against the rest of her face, and then the mask is gone completely, releasing her hair from where it had been hastily hidden from view so that it tumbles around her face.Monica flashes her a uneasy smile. “Hi, Rach.”(or, monica is a diner employee by day and a crime-fighter by night, and rachel is oblivious until she isn't.)





	the work don't stop ('cause they don't stop)

**Author's Note:**

> did i get angsty about rachel green whilst writing this? perhaps. also, i love the chandler and monica dynamic in any form, don't @ me about this.
> 
>  
> 
> title is from It's On Again by alicia keys, and i own nothing.

Monica Geller is a woman that doesn’t have much to worry about.

They’re the regular things, the things everyone has to worry about at some point in their lives - whether her boss is happy at work, and what to do when her high school best friend runs away from her wedding and shows up on her doorstep, and whether or not the flowers on her kitchen table are perfectly in place, just how she likes them.

Monica worries like the rest of the regular people that live in New York City. It’s just a shame that she’s not just Monica Geller.

 

//

 

The first time anyone else finds out about this is the night she climbs in through the wrong window.

Monica has only being doing this tentative crime-fighting gig for a few months now, and not many people pay her any attention. Occasionally, there are a few innocent bystanders that try and wrangle a name out of her as she flees the scene, before they turn to lurking on some dingy online forum to see if they can find any information on this elusive _spidergirl_. One of the more creative ones tried to get an article run in the paper, not that anyone would give the woman the time of day the moment they heard the phrase _masked vigilante_. For the amount of hatred Chandler seems to have for his job, he does bring home the best office gossip for everyone to have a chuckle at, Monica included. She’s not stupid enough to give any hint to her identity - even if there’s a very slim chance of someone ever singling her out from the rest of the city anyway.

Well. _Usually_ , she’s not stupid enough. Tonight is a little different.

Truth is, handing criminals their asses is a more tiring job than she maybe first anticipated. The altercation just now had gotten more than a bit out of hand - Monica’s sporting at least three new bruises under her suit from where she had been on the wrong side of someone’s fist, and she’s pretty sure that she won’t be able to put much weight on her ankle when she has to make the commute to the restaurant in the morning.

She doesn’t even register that it’s not actually her apartment that she’s just tumbled into until the light flickers on and she’s face to face with Chandler - Chandler, who has just dropped his mug of coffee and looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm right there in front of her.

“I -” Monica looks at the crumpled mask in her hand, too late to hide her face, and then back up at her neighbour. “It was fancy dress day at work?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she knows they’re pointless; Chandler’s doing the thing he always does when he’s too stunned to make some kind of snarky comment, eyes wide and mouth moving with no sound coming out. It’s too late for any kind of excuse now.

“Alright, Chandler? Don’t freak out.” She holds her hands up, like she’s surrendering to something - surrendering to the fact that her big secret isn’t so secret anymore. “Okay, this is no big deal -”

“ _No big deal_?” Chandler flails so hard that he nearly trips over his own two feet. His voice crashes through two octaves. “You’re the _spidergirl_ -”

“Shut _up_! You trying to let the whole building hear you?”

Chandler, thankfully, lowers his voice, but his tone doesn’t get any less frantic, or his limb movements any less wild. “This couldn’t _be_ a bigger deal, Mon -!”

“No! It’s not a big deal! It’s not going to be a big deal, because no one else is ever going to find out!” She fixes him with a stern look. “Okay, Chandler? No one else knows and I’m going to keep it that way. I can trust you to keep this a secret from the others, right?”

Chandler is quiet for a moment, some kind of internal conflict going on, and then: “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Monica heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She hitches the leg of her suit up, revealing her ankle. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to have some bandages lying around, would you?”

 

//

 

The whole _friendly neighbourhood Spidergirl_ persona doesn’t really catch on until Chandler’s article.

Whereas no one had cared about her antics a few months earlier, Monica seems to have found a knack for throwing herself head-first into the fight against crime in New York, and as a result, people have finally started to notice. Not just regular people anymore, either; the papers that had once shunned her story are now trying to seek her out too, to catch a glimpse of the woman who seems hell bent on defending the city streets.

The first guy who gets the story is all but guaranteed a promotion - and everyone knows that Chandler is desperate to get out of his current department.

It’s a stupid idea, and somewhat of a reckless one at that, but Chandler sets his puppy dog eyes on her and she gives in eventually, because she can’t exactly argue that she doesn’t owe him a favour after the amount of times he’s saved her ass since he found out about her double life, patching up her injuries and explaining away her sudden absences to the rest of the group when duty calls.

“Do I have to wear the costume for authenticity?” She quips as she sits opposite him at the kitchen counter, eating her way through a box of cookies.

“Only if you want to. ‘course, if Joey comes back from that audition early, you’re gonna have some explaining to do.” They share a chuckle at that image, before Chandler sobers up, returning to the list of questions he has pulled up on the screen of his laptop. “First thing: where does the name Spidergirl come from?”

Monica frowns. “ _That’s_ the question you’re starting with?”

“It’s what the people want to know, Mon. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have just caught Spidergirl off guard on the street in this elaborate lie you’ve made? You have three minutes at most to ask questions, and you’re going with that? C’mon, Chandler.”

“Whose interview is this supposed to be?”

“Spidergirl’s,” Monica fires back, eyebrow raised. “And, oh look, that’s me. How about that?”

“Fine.” Chandler scans the list of questions again. “Okay. How about this one - what made you decide to take this job up?”

Monica ponders this for a moment. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, but not everyone is dressing up in spandex and running around New York every night to fight on the side of the law. So why you?”

“Someone has to get things done around here. If it’s not going to be anyone else, it’s going to be me. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie there, Mon,” Chandler says, but scribbles her reply on his notepad anyway. “Okay, next question - can I call you Spidey?”

Monica wrinkles her nose in distaste. “You absolutely _can’t_.”

 

//

 

It takes another two weeks before the article is actually published; the words _WHO IS SPIDERGIRL?_ are printed across the top of the paper in unmissable lettering, above the blurry photo Chandler had caught of her god knows when. The group cluster around their usual table in Central Perk to pour over it together, cross-examining with each other, whilst Chandler perches on the arm of the couch and shares secret, knowing glances with Monica every so often as he fights off every query the rest of them could think of.

Ross is halfway through his mug of coffee when he voices his question. “What was she actually like?”

Chandler, off on a tangent about what a nightmare the printing press is, stops abruptly. “Huh?”

“Spidergirl,” Ross clarifies, tapping the copy of the newspaper that’s laying open across his lap. “You said here that you met her. What was she like?”

“Yeah, Chandler,” Monica chimes in. “What was she like?”

“She’s, uh -” Chandler flounders for a moment. “- _intimidating_.”

Monica shrugs. She’ll take that.

Joey tosses his own copy of the article aside. “Yeah, but was she hot?”

“Joey!” Phoebe stares at him, aghast. “That’s so inappropriate! This woman is trying to defend our city and that’s all you’re interested in?” She turns her gaze to Chandler. “For the record, though, was she hot?”

“Yeah, Chandler,” Monica repeats, trying to keep the smirk off her face. “Tell the people what they want to know: was she hot?”

Chandler turns his gaze on her, glowering. “No.”

Joey and Phoebe both make noises of disappointment.

“Are you guys still talking about Chandler’s article?” Rachel drifts over towards them, empty tray tucked under her arm. “To be honest, I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

Ross raises an eyebrow. “You don’t like Spidergirl?”

“I never said I didn’t like her,” Rachel replies. “I just don’t see what the big deal is. Underneath it all, I bet she’s just a regular New Yorker like everyone else.” She smirks suddenly, amused by her own thoughts. “She could be sitting amongst us right now and we’d never know.”

Ross chuckles. “Don’t be silly, Rach. If Spidergirl was sitting amongst us right now, I’m sure we’d be able to tell.”

“Of course we would,” Monica agrees, exchanging another glance with Chandler.

Ross nods, satisfied that he’s being backed up on this one. Rachel simply shakes her head.

 

//

 

When the streets of night-time New York are quieter than usual, Monica finds herself making a habit of checking up on her friends.

They’re citizens of the city that, somewhere along the line, she’s vowed to protect, after all. It’s her job to make sure they’re okay when they’re out at night on their own. She tracks Joey home from his evening auditions, she keeps an eye on Phoebe as she crosses the street towards her car, she waits until Ross and Chandler have crossed paths after work so they’re not stumbling around by themselves - and, right now, she’s hovering above the street corner that beckons people into Central Perk, waiting for Rachel to finish the closing shift. Sure, her friend only has a few steps to go until she’s at the door of their apartment building, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, especially when the nights draw in and it’s already pitch black by the time Rachel locks up the shop. Spidergirl is nothing if not cautious.

It’s a good thing she _is_ cautious, or else she might not have spotted the guy in the dark sweater lingering in the shadows close by, waiting for Rachel to step outside and turn to lock up, to let her guard down. Something tells her that he’s not just waiting to say hi and congratulate her on her skills as a barista, especially when Rachel juggles the keys in one hand and her purse in the other.

The moment he takes a step towards her, Monica drops down from her perch, putting herself in between the man and her roommate. Behind her, Rachel lets out a noise of surprise.

“Hey,” Monica says, keeping her voice steady and unwavering. “How about you think again and pick on someone your own size?”

The man looks her up and down, and then narrows his eyes. “You’re that Spidergirl from the papers.”

“Good thing you’ve heard of me. Means you know I’m not letting you get past me.”

He throws a punch at her then, moving so fast that Monica only just swoops out of reach. Rachel shrieks, hand pressed to her mouth.

Monica spares her a fleeting glance. “Stay there,” she tells her, before focusing on the task at hand. The guy is several inches taller than she is, and has a sturdier build, which doesn’t help when he uses his strength to try and barrel into her, her side making contact with the gravel as she tries to duck out of the way and, _yup_ , that’s a sore spot she’s going to feel in the morning.

Right now, though, she’s back up on her feet in the breath of a second.

“That the best you got?” She yells, taunting. The guy tries to take another swing at her, but her webs are faster; she jumps out of the way and he’s plastered against the windows of Central Perk in a matter of moments, struggling against the restraints.

“Say hi to the NYPD for me,” Monica quips, enjoying the way he scowls at the arrogance in her tone, before she turns away from him, towards the doorway of the coffee place, where Rachel is staring at her with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey.” Monica approaches her slowly, careful not to spook her any further. “Are you okay?”

It’s almost like Rachel doesn’t even hear her. “You just saved my life.”

Monica shrugs. “That’s kind of my job. I’m -”

“Friendly neighbourhood Spidergirl,” Rachel interrupts, still sounding a little faint. “Yeah, I know. I read the article.” She peers over her shoulder. “Is it safe to just leave him there like that?”

Monica glances back at the guy, still pinned to the window and still glowering, and then rolls her eyes, even if Rachel can’t see it. “Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere until the police get here. What about you? Are you okay getting inside?” When Rachel doesn’t answer, she extends a hand towards her, one that her roommate takes, albeit a little cautiously. “Hold on tight, okay?”

She tugs her closer, shifting them so that she’s carrying Rachel on her back, legs around her hips and arms around her neck. Monica gives the guy a three-finger wave before she’s off, crawling up the side of the building, jumping onto the balcony of their apartment a few seconds later. Rachel clutches at her shoulders until her feet are firmly planted on something solid.

“Home sweet home,” Monica says. Rachel raises an eyebrow.

“How did you know I lived here?”

“You’d be surprised.” Rachel opens her mouth again, probably to ask more questions; Monica quickly cuts her off. “It’s cold out tonight. You should get inside.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agrees, but she makes no effort to move. “I feel like - I don’t know, I feel like I should offer you some tea or something, to say thanks.”

Monica chuckles. “Knowing you’re safe is thanks enough.”

“Are you sure? You could hang around and meet my roommate.” Her expression visibly brightens at the mention of Monica - and then abruptly falls again as confusion takes over. “You’d really like her, actually - although I don’t think she’s home yet. Which is kind of weird, because it’s getting late and she’s usually back by now -”

“I really have to get going,” Monica says, interrupting again, a distraction to keep Rachel from speculating the reasons for her prolonged absence. “You know, gotta get back out there and keep the rest of New York safe - and let the police know about our guy downstairs so they can deal with him.”

“Oh.” Her roommate blinks, as if she’s only just remembered the whole point of this Spidergirl gig, and then nods. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks, again.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” Monica throws her one last smile, realising a bit too late that, again, Rachel can’t see it under the mask, before she jumps off of the side of the balcony, free-falling and swinging around the side of the building.

She rummages in the nearby hedgerow and finds the backpack she’s stashed away for emergencies like this, throwing an oversized sweater and pair of sweatpants on over her suit and heading back across the street to the apartment building. If she’s quick, she can make it upstairs without anyone noticing her and check on Rachel faster.

Unfortunately, the universe isn’t that kind. She makes it all the way to her doorstep and is about to head inside, when:

“Oh. My. God. _Monica_!”

Monica winces, and then paints a smile on her face before turning around. “Hi, Janice.”

“Monica!” Janice marches down the hall towards and envelopes her in a hug. Over her shoulder, Chandler looks like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Look at you! Your cheeks are all flushed - What is it that’s gotten you all hot and bothered, hm?”

“Just a rough day at work.” Monica disentangles herself, before raising an eyebrow at Chandler. “What are you guys doing here?”

“It’s the funniest coincidence,” Janice says, the words accompanied by her usual nasally laughter. Chandler cringes, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. “I was just out to dinner and the guy I was supposed to be meeting didn’t even show up, can you believe it?”

“Hm, can you _believe_ it?” Chandler echoes, sarcasm dripping from his tone, even if he does seem to be putting as much distance between himself and Janice as possible.

“Never,” Monica answers.

“So, there I am, leaving the restaurant alone, when who do I spot across the street?” Janice turns her gaze on Chandler, who gives her quite possibly the most forced smile Monica has ever seen. “What are the chances of that happening?”

“Yes,” Chandler echoes again, “what _are_ the chances?”

“I see.” Monica raises an eyebrow. She’s never been able to figure out how Chandler manages to get himself into situations like this. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Nonsense!” Janice clasps at Chandler’s arm all of sudden. “We should all go out for coffee and catch up some time! Wouldn’t that be great?”

“I’d love to,” Monica says, out of politeness more than anything else. She excuses herself before Janice can invite her to anything else, locking the door behind her for good measure.

“Monica!” She barely has the chance to turn around before Rachel is pulling her into another hug, a more welcome hug this time. “Oh, Mon, you’ll never guess what happened!”

“Probably not.” Monica wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay, honey? You seem a little shaken up.”

Rachel leans back to meet her gaze. “Put a pot of coffee on, Mon. I’ve got _so much_ to tell you.”

 

//

 

By the end of the week, the entire group has been caught up on Rachel’s night of living dangerously. Over the course of a few days, Spidergirl has gone from stopping a mugger to seemingly taking down a whole gang of heinous criminals intending to do Rachel harm single-handedly. As much as it fans her ego to hear how brave her superhero counterpart is every ten minutes, Monica wishes that her roommate would let the story die down a little - the more Rachel talks about it, the more she’s thinking about it, which means there’s a chance she might begin to want to uncover the identity of the mysterious woman who saved her. That scenario is one that could end badly for everyone.

Unfortunately, Rachel isn’t forgetting the story any time soon; she’s sitting in her usual armchair in their apartment, entertaining everyone with the tale yet again.

“What was she like, Rach?” Ross asks again, perching on the arm of her chair. “Was she as intimidating as Chandler claims?”

“She was _wonderful_ ,” Rachel insists, almost dreamily. Monica chews her lip to stop snickering as she wanders back over to the group from the kitchen.

From his seat on the couch, Joey smirks. “Sounds like someone’s got a bit of a crush.”

Monica almost drops the pot of coffee in her hand. Rachel snaps out of her daydream, staring at him now with a defensive expression on her face.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have a crush!”

“Right,” Phoebe chimes in. “Because it’s normal to go on and on about the same woman for this many days.”

“She saved my life!”

“Hey, it’s not the worst thing people have caught feelings over,” Joey says. “Look at Chandler and Janice.”

“I’m not in love with Janice!” Chandler protests, indignant. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Point is,” Phoebe continues, “it’s not bad if you’ve got a crush on her, Rach. I’d have a crush on her too if she saved my life.”

“Well, I don’t,” Rachel replies stiffly, to the point where Monica wonders if she should be a little offended that she’s so abhorred by the concept of crushing on her.

_Crushing on Spidergirl_ , her brain corrects, not her. Rachel crushing on her really _would_ be ridiculous.

“Besides,” Rachel continues, “I’m still waiting for that special someone to sweep me off my feet. Like when Monica has to wear those rollerblades at work.”

The rest of the group laughs; Monica pulls a face. “Hey. It comes with the job. It’s not like I can say no - believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I think it’s cool,” Phoebe says, in some show of support.

“It’s not. But thank you for lying.”

 

//

 

The next time Rachel works the late shift, Monica hangs around outside Central Perk again. She’s supposed to be downtown, doing her usual Spidergirl patrols, but she can tell that Rachel is still secretly a little shaken up over what happened, no matter how many times she dramatically recounts the events of her rescue, and she would only be a bad friend if she didn’t keep an eye on her in the best way she can.

It’s nearing five-thirty by the time her friend locks up and steps out onto the street. Monica shifts her weight, the branch she’s balanced on creaking with the movement.

“Hi there,” she calls; Rachel jumps and spins around to face her, narrowing her eyes when she spots Monica perched in the tree.

“Don’t do that! You could have given me a heart attack!”

“Sorry.”

Rachel folds her arms, watching her for a moment with a guarded expression. “What are you doing here anyway? Following me or something?”

“I was just checking up on you.” Monica drops down from the tree, landing on her feet with a muted thud. “Making sure you’re okay after everything that happened.”

“I’m fine.” Rachel takes a step closer, then another. “Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay.”

“I don’t believe you. I see you on the news sometimes - you come away from things pretty badly.”

“I’m fine,” Monica insists, but it doesn’t stop Rachel from trying to get a closer look; she winces when she grabs her wrist, a reaction her roommate immediately notices.

“You’re not _fine_ , you’re hurt.”

“You sound like my dad.”

Rachel ignores that comment. “How did this happen?”

“Ah, you know -” Monica shrugs “- fighting crime, stopping criminals, the usual.”

Two days ago, she had gotten into a fight with a woman who had tried to rob a grocery store. The other woman had come away more scathed by the time the police took over, but not before she had seized Monica by the wrist and twisted it to the point of injury.

“You need to get some ice on it,” Rachel says. “Come up to the apartment, I’ll get you some.” She raises an eyebrow at Monica’s hesitation. “Come on. _You’re_ the one who stopped by to see _me_. Don’t try and run away.”

She’s got a point. But still -

“I shouldn’t.”

“But I insist.”

Monica stares at her for a few more moments, and then sighs, surrendering. “Alright. But just for a few minutes, okay? I got a city to protect.”

She follows Rachel inside, up the usual flight of stairs to get to their floor. Her roommate keeps sending her sideways glances as they walk side by side. She doesn’t seem to be as concerned as Monica is about making sure no one sees them - maybe she isn’t thinking about how much of a stir would be caused if someone casually ran into Spidergirl in the hallway on a whim.

They make it through the building without incident until they’re almost at the apartment, when Monica freezes at the rattles of keys in the lock of number nineteen. There’s no where for her to duck and hide with such short notice - just as Joey steps out of his apartment, she webs herself to the ceiling, lying as still and as flat as she possibly can in the hopes that she won’t be noticed.

Luckily, Joey’s too distracted by the sight of Rachel to pay any attention to her. “Hey, Rach.”

Rachel glances over her shoulder, probably looking for her companion who has mysteriously disappeared, and then raises an eyebrow. “Hey, Joey.”

“You might wanna avoid our apartment for a while,” he advises as they pass each other, chuckling to himself, some inside joke only he knows. “That’s a mess you don’t want to walk into.”

By the time his footsteps are fading away down the hall, Monica drops back down from the ceiling.

“People never seem to look up,” she muses, before turning back to Rachel, who’s staring at her like she can’t tell whether this is real life or whether she’s dreaming. “Are we nearly there?”

It’s almost like an out of body experience, seeing her familiar apartment from underneath the Spidergirl mask. Force of habit makes her move towards her usual seat at the table without thinking, when Rachel puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Don’t sit there. That’s Monica’s spot.” She chuckles. “She’ll kill me if I let someone else sit there, even Spidergirl.”

“Your roommate? What’s she like?”

“She’s…” Rachel pauses, pondering for a moment. “She’s great. She’s smart, and driven, and generous, and - and _funny_ , and _caring_ , and -” She stops, and then sighs, apparently taking Monica’s somewhat stunned silence as disinterest. “She’s just great, okay?”

“She sounds great.” Monica is not sure she’s ever heard Rachel say that many nice things about someone in one consistent sentence - and the consistent sentence is about her, of all people. She wants to return the compliment in some way, to let Rachel know that her roommate is just as funny and caring, but before she can think of a way to do so without suspicion, the door swings open and Chandler comes barrelling into the apartment, impromptu as usual.

“Okay, no one panic, I’ve got a major situa - _Ah_.” His sentence cuts off abruptly at the sight of Monica, suited up and sitting at the kitchen table. “Spidergirl. Why - Rachel, why is Spidergirl sitting in your apartment?”

Monica nods. “Nice to see you too, Chandler.”

“Don’t worry, Chandler, she’s just here to get some ice for her wrist. Besides, you guys are basically friends after that article you wrote, right?” Rachel winds an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon. Tell us about this major situation. What’s happened?”

“ _Janice!_ ” Chandler yells, distracted from the presence of Monica’s alter ego for a moment. “She’s sitting in my apartment waiting for me to make her coffee and I don’t have any milk!”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“The faster I make this coffee, the faster she leaves! Can I _please_ use your milk? I’ll pay you back in tips on your next shift.”

“Alright. I’m sure Mon won’t mind. I’ll ask if she can pick up some more from the grocery store after work tomorrow.” Rachel glances across the apartment as she passes Chandler the milk in question. “In fact, she might be in her room now, I can check -”

“No!” Chandler all but shrieks, before Monica can even say anything herself. “No, no, don’t do that, she - she might be sleeping! You know how grumpy she gets if you wake her up too early! She’s like a grizzly bear!”

“A grizzly bear?” Monica quotes, fixing him with a glare that she hopes he can feel from under her mask. Chandler sends her an apologetic glance.

“O...kay?” Rachel raises an eyebrow. “I’ll ask her later, then, if you’re that worried about it.” She nods towards the door. “Go and make Janice that coffee before she invites herself to move in with you and Joey.”

Chandler considers this, and then shudders. “Don’t tempt fate like that. It’s dangerous.”

Rachel sees him through the door, and then chuckles. “I’m sorry about him.” She moves to sit beside Monica at the table, icepack in hand. “How’s your wrist doing?”

Monica pushes the sleeve of her suit up as far as she can. This time, both of them wince when they see the red blemishes around her wrist.

“You should be more careful,” Rachel says, as she lays the icepack on her skin.

“I’m used to it now. This sort of stuff comes with the job.”

Rachel snorts. “You sound just like Monica.”

“She really _is_ smart, then.”

“Yeah, she is. Much smarter than me, anyway.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, she is. She’s always so on top of things, you know? And I’m…not.” She chuckles, self-deprecating. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though. She’ll never let it go.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Monica assures her, and then snickers. “Not very often I’m on the other side of _that_ sentence.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Do your friends know about -” Rachel gestures “- all this?”

“No,” Monica replies, somewhat truthfully. “Sometimes I think it’s safer for them, at the end of the day, just in case I get into any real trouble.”

“This _isn’t_ real trouble?”

“You know what I mean.” Monica takes over holding the icepack. “Would you tell them?. If you were in my shoes.”

Rachel hums as she thinks. “I don’t know. It depends on how I thought they would react. Monica, though - she’d handle it really well.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Smart one, remember? She always knows what to do.”

“One day I’m gonna meet this roommate of yours and see if she’s as great as you keep saying.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” Rachel smiles again, this one softer, almost secretive. “I trust Monica with my life. Maybe even more than you. No offence.”

“Trust me, no offence is taken. I’m sure she’d be flattered to know that. Maybe you should tell her that sometime.”

“And get laughed out of the room? No, thank you.”

Underneath her mask, Monica frowns. The neutral air in her voice falters for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

Rachel chews on her bottom lip, worrying the skin there. “I just have these doubts, I guess. Like she’ll think I’m only saying it because I want something from her - and she’s the one that’s already done so much for me. I wouldn’t have a place I love, a job that pays, well, _anything_ , friends that I care about - I wouldn’t have any of it if it wasn’t for Monica taking me in. I’d be stuck in a loveless marriage to a man who went on our honeymoon with our maid of honour.” There’s a wry smile tugging at her mouth now. “I guess you could say she literally saved my life. How about that.”

“I think you should have more faith in her, then. If she’s as smart as you say she is, she’ll take it in the way you mean it.”

“You didn’t see who I was before. I wasn’t that great of a person. You wouldn’t have wanted to help me back then.”

“Rachel." Monica's tone is firm, no room for argument. "Whatever you did, or didn’t do, it's in the past now. Spidergirl defends everyone in New York City, including you.”

“Friendly neighbourhood Spidergirl,” Rachel quotes. “I know, I know. But speaking of neighbourhood, shouldn’t you be getting back out there? Don’t waste your whole evening sitting here chatting with me.”

“It’s not a waste,” Monica argues, but she does have a good point. She has a job to do, at the end of the day. She can feel Rachel watching her as she walks across the apartment, out of the window and onto the balcony.

“Look after yourself, Rachel,” she calls over her shoulder at the last moment, just before she takes off into the night. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

If she’s not mistaken, there’s a blush crawling its way up Rachel’s neck. “Thanks.”

Monica waves, and then drops from the balcony, onto the fire escape a few metres below. She can’t sneak into Chandler’s apartment in case Janice is still there, and so she scales around the side of the building and climbs through one of the narrow windows, landing with a thump on her bedroom floor, nearly knocking her lamp over.

She barely has time to pull herself up when she hears the hesitant knock on the door.

“Mon? Is that you?”

_Crap._

“Here!” She calls, albeit a little breathless, already wrestling with the zip on her suit and flailing around looking for her pyjama pants. The door handle rattles, jammed on the back of the chair wedged there.

“Monica?” Rachel sounds more concerned now, and tries the door again. “Are you okay in there?”

“Fine, fine, I’m fine! Hold on a second!” She barely has time to kick the crumpled suit under her bed as she throws the door open. “Rachel?”

Rachel simply stares at her for a moment, frowning. “Why was your door stuck?”

“I was -” _Working? Meditating? Cleaning?_ “- napping?” Her roommate’s brow furrows further. “Mon, it’s only six thirty.”

“Really?” Monica checks her watch. Sure enough, it’s not even dead-on six thirty yet. She really should set her story straight before opening her mouth. “So it is. Guess I had a longer shift at the diner than I thought. You okay, honey?”

“Yeah.” Rachel chews her lip. “I guess I was just thinking about everything that’s happened this past week, and I kinda didn’t want to be alone right now. You want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure, Rach. Whatever you want. Be right there, okay?”

Rachel nods, and heads in the direction of the kitchen to find snacks. Monica shuts the door behind her and heaves a sigh of relief.

 

//

 

She sleeps in the next morning, taking a sick day to give her body time to heal. Spidergirl might be a superhero, but Monica needs a bit more time.

“You look exhausted,” Rachel tells her when she crawls out of her room at around midday.

“Don’t worry about it,” Monica assures, and recoils when her wrist protests at her attempt to lift the full pot of coffee.

“You’re shaking.” Rachel’s voice looms up behind her. “Why are you shaking?”

“It’s nothing,” Monica says again, but her words fall on deaf ears.

“Monica, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Rachel catches her shoulder, grabs her sleeve and pulls it up before Monica can stop her, exposing the rings around her wrist that haven’t faded yet.

She can pinpoint the exact moment that her roommate puts two and two together.

“Rach -” she says, and Rachel drops her arm like she’s been burnt. “Rachel, I - I can explain.”

Rachel doesn’t look like she wants to hear any sort of explanation. “That night, with that guy after work - that was _you_?”

“Yeah.” Monica fights the urge to hang her head in shame at the little note of hurt in her roommate’s voice. “Yeah, it was me.”

“And yesterday, when you told me you were napping -”

“Me again.”

“All this time.” Rachel’s expression changes now, morphs into something cold and guarded. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t!” Monica protests. “I just - I didn’t tell you the whole truth?”

It comes out sounding like a question; Rachel narrows her eyes.

“All that stuff last night, me patching you up, you telling me I was smarter than I gave myself credit for - what, was that you making fun of me or something?”

“No!” Monica insists, but it’s clear her roommate doesn’t believe her; she’s already gathering her coat and heading for the door, because if there’s one thing Rachel can’t stand it’s feeling like she’s being made fun of. “I wasn’t making fun of you, I would never make fun of you, I was - _Rachel_ -!”

Rachel slams the door behind her, cutting off the rest of her plea.

 

//

 

Two hours later, after no word from Rachel, Monica is across the hall in the other apartment, lamenting her woes to Chandler and Phoebe.

“I think I’ve ruined everything.”

“She’ll come around,” Chandler offers.

“Why?” Phoebe’s frowning as she leans against the counter. “Can’t you just talk to her about it, Mon? She’s your roommate.”

“I’ve tried. I don’t think she really wants to see me right now.” Monica’s grip tightens around the coffee mug in her hand. “I told her something - kind of - and she got freaked out.”

“It can’t be that bad. Was it that Chandler is back with Janice?”

Chandler splutters. “I’m not back with Janice!”

Phoebe doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m not!”

“It’s not about Chandler. It’s something about me.” She’s opened the can of worms now. Why stop? “I’m Spidergirl.”

Phoebe stares at her, blinks - and then snorts.

“Yeah, Monica, I know.”

“What -” Monica feels her jaw drop. “How do you know?”

“I thought everyone knew!” Phoebe’s looking at the two of them in confusion now. “Wait - was it supposed to be a secret?”

“ _Yes!_ God, Pheebs - You didn’t tell the others, did you?”

“No!” Phoebe looks offended at the very suggestion of it. “Why would I tell the others if I thought they already knew?”

_At least there’s that._

“How did you find out?”

Phoebe raises an eyebrow. “It doesn’t take a genius to realise that you just happen to disappear every time Spidergirl appears on the news.”

“No one else has noticed yet,” Monica says.

“That’s because I’m the smart one!”

Chandler shrugs. “She’s got a point.”

 

//

 

A week later, and Rachel is still avoiding her.

It’s not so much anger now, Monica thinks. It’s a frosty kind of distance, if anything else. She doesn’t join Monica for dinner, or spend the evenings sat beside her on the couch, or wander over to the group during her breaks at Central Perk.

“It’s totally normal, Monica,” Ross says, after he catches her staring glumly after Rachel for the fifth time that afternoon. “Best friends fall out all the time, even over stupid things. You and Rachel will work through whatever you’ve been arguing about.”

“I suppose.” Monica returns her gaze to the now-cold cup of coffee in front of her. “I just miss her.”

“I know.” Ross gives her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “And, hey, if it helps, I can always put in a good word for you at dinner tonight.”

Monica frowns. “Dinner?”

“Yeah.” Ross shrugs. “I was planning on inviting Rachel over for dinner at my place tonight.”

“Like as a date?”

Ross is suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “I mean, I guess. If you want to look at it that way.”

Apparently he’s not the _only one_ feeling uncomfortable. “I thought you got over her in high school.”

“That was ten years ago, Mon,” he replies. “We’ve both changed since then. Maybe it could work out this time. You never know.”

“Maybe,” Monica echoes, and tries to relax the fists that her hands have balled up into. She doesn’t like the idea of Ross asking Rachel out to dinner, almost as much as she doesn’t like the implications of the churning feeling that’s currently in her stomach, what that might mean about her friendship with Rachel - what’s left of it, anyway.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to think about it for too long - the peaceful atmosphere of the coffee house is broken by the arrival of a rather flustered looking Phoebe, who charges through the door looking like she’s just sprinted here. She makes a beeline for the couch.

“Have you guys seen the news?” Her eyes, wide and frantic, are focused solely on Monica.

“What’s happened?” Ross is up and out of his chair, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder, and then he’s shouting to the man behind the counter. “Gunther, turn on the TV, let’s see what’s going on.”

Most of the other customers have taken interest in what’s going on, crowding around the counter to try and catch a glimpse of the grainy images on the TV, the sight of people gathered around the scene, civilians and police alike, anticipating. From what blurry footage they can see, a group of robbers have barricaded themselves, and three hostages, in an ATM vestibule downtown, and no one is backing down anytime soon.

Monica knows what they’re waiting for - who they’re waiting for. Everyone knows who they’re waiting for. They’re waiting for their friendly neighbourhood Spidergirl to fall from the sky and save them, just as she’s promised. At the end of the day, what choice does she have?

Phoebe’s hand finds hers in the commotion and squeezes it, a silent message of _stay safe_ , before she turns away, already making her way towards the street.

“Monica.” Rachel’s voice calls after her, wobbling like she’s about to cry.

Monica falters in her step for a single second before she’s out of earshot, the painted doors of Central Perk swinging shut behind her.

 

//

 

It’s common knowledge by now that robbers don’t stand a chance against Spidergirl. It’s less common knowledge that Monica Gellar doesn’t stand a chance against the stinging pain of in her shoulder where a knife has torn more than her costume.

“I assume a lecture on safety is out of the question,” Chandler says, patching her up in his bathroom that evening as she bleeds in his bathtub almost too fast for him to catch up.

“You could try.” Monica raises an eyebrow, casual, despite the fact that her fists are clenched in discomfort. “You wouldn’t survive.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He rips open a new packet of bandages. “Have you worked things out with Rachel yet?”

Monica sighs. “No. To be honest, I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

“I don’t know, Mon. She seemed pretty worried when we caught up with her in Central Perk and watched you kick ass on the news. Maybe she just needed some time to get used to the idea. Will you at least try talking to her when she gets home?”

“I guess I’ll try.” She doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it, even to her own ears. Every other time she’s tried to talk to Rachel, even to apologise for all the secrecy, her roommate has given her the cold shoulder. Monica might be all of those wonderful things in Rachel’s eyes, but now those same pair of eyes also see her as some kind of betrayer, and there might be no coming back from that.

Still. She’ll be damned if she doesn’t try. Sometimes, she wonders if this whole superhero gig has made her reckless with her decisions to the point of borderline stupidity.

 

//

 

It’s already dark by the time Monica finds herself perched on the streetlamp outside Central Perk, watching over Rachel.

It’s long after the customers are gone for the day, and her roommate is clearing up after her shift, glancing towards the door as if she’s expecting someone. Maybe, Monica thinks, she’s waiting around for Ross. Maybe she’s taken him up on his date offer, after all. She’s not sure how she feels about that thought, whether she’s happy that Ross gets the fairytale ending with his high school crush or whether that same churning in her stomach is because she wants to keep Rachel for herself, but it’s not like she’s here to talk her out of anything - not that Rachel would listen to her anyway. Especially not now, not when, from her point of view, Monica has actively lied to her for months. No, Monica is simply here to make sure that Rachel gets home safe, and that’s the end of it. Chandler’s wrong about this one.

She doesn’t have to wait long - soon enough, the lights of Central Perk shut off for the night and Rachel steps out into the street, coat thrown on over her uniform and hands in her pockets to protect them from the autumn chill. She’s beautiful, almost ethereal in the glow of the streetlamp, paused on the sidewalk.

“You can come out now, Mon,” Rachel says suddenly, breaking the silence. Monica winces. Perhaps she’s not as stealthy as she once thought.

“Sorry,” she says from her spot in the darkness, and lets herself tumble forward until she’s in Rachel’s line of sight, albeit upside down. “I didn’t want to freak you out. You know, again.”

Rachel’s sharp blue eyes appraise her. “You looked like you got hurt pretty bad on the news.”

“I’m okay. Chandler patched me up.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow. “Chandler?”

“Yeah.” Monica ducks her gaze. “He’s, uh - he’s known for a while. I did that article for him because I owed him a favour.”

Rachel doesn’t comment on that, not even to tell her that this is just another level of betrayal. Instead, she takes a step forward, closing the small amount of distance between them so that they’re almost nose to nose (more or less).

“Can I -?”

When Monica doesn’t reply, she reaches out a hand, her fingers finding the edge of the mask and pulling, rolling it further and further over her chin, her mouth, her nose. The frown that pinches her brow tells Monica when she peels back enough to catch a glimpse of the black eye, still angry and dark against the rest of her face, and then the mask is gone completely, releasing her hair from where it had been hastily hidden from view so that it tumbles around her face.

Monica flashes her a uneasy smile. “Hi, Rach.”

“Monica, why didn’t you tell me?” Rachel’s hand clenches around the fabric of the mask. “I would’ve kept your secret and you know it.”

“I didn’t know _how_ to tell you. Not exactly the kind of thing I could slip into conversation over breakfast, you know?”

Rachel shakes her head. “You had no problem telling Chandler.”

“Actually,” Monica corrects, “Chandler found out by accident. I didn’t strictly _tell_ him anything.”

“All the same. You could have told me any time you wanted. Hell, you could have told me that night when you saved my life. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You already said thank you.”

“To Spidergirl,” Rachel insists, and, finally, there is something of a smile on her face, if very _very_ small. “I haven’t said thank you to Monica yet.”

“Kind of the same person here, Rach.”

“We both know what I mean. Just like we both know that you’re going to stick around to make sure I get back up to apartment safely.”

“Only if you want me to. If you’re waiting for Ross to show up, I can make myself scarce so you guys can have some alone time.”

“Ross?” Rachel frowns at her, as if this possibility hasn’t even crossed her mind. “Why would I be waiting for Ross?”

Apparently that makes both of them confused. “I thought you were going to dinner with him tonight?”

“Oh, god - Monica!” Rachel’s expression brightens and she chuckles; it’s a welcome sound, even if it’s apparently at Monica’s stupidity. “Don’t get me wrong, okay, I love your brother, but not like that!”

Monica is still frowning. “Then, why - ?”

“Because I thought I wouldn’t have a chance with someone else.” Her gaze drops to the mask still in her hand. “And then I realised how much of a jerk that made me, so I called him and told him no. He took it pretty well, all things considered.”

“Are you sure?” Monica raises an eyebrow. “This is _Ross_ we’re talking about.”

“I think he knew there was someone else. He even told me to follow my heart.” Rachel sighs then, not exactly enthusiastic about following her heart. “Monica, do you know why I was so mad when I found out about all of this?”

Monica nods. “Because you felt like I’d lied to you.”

“It’s not that. Well, yeah, but it’s more than just that. It made me feel like a fool. There I was, going on and on about the roommate who took me in when I had no where else to go, telling this Spidergirl about how great she was, and you were right there, under my nose, listening to it all.”

“It wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world to have to hear.”

“I know, but it was…it was other things too.”

“Like what?” Rachel doesn’t say anything, just drops her gaze; Monica reaches out a hand, to try and reassure her. “You know you can tell me anything, Rachel.”

“I kind of already did,” her roommate admits, with an expression that could almost be taken as shy. “Mon…remember when I said that I wanted someone to sweep me off my feet?”

Monica frowns - and then it breaks. It _breaks_.

“Spidergirl. So that _was_ what you meant? Joey was right?”

Rachel snickers then.

“Spidergirl’s kind of overrated,” she says, and then she closes the gap between them and kisses her. It’s tilted at an awkward angle with Monica still hanging upside down, but it’s soft and slow, and when Monica gently bumps their noses together, Rachel pulls back, smiling like she’s just seen the sun for the first time.

“Trust me,” she says. “Monica Geller is the one you want.”

 

//

 

They’re sitting in Chandler and Joey’s apartment, watching the late afternoon news coverage of Spidergirl’s latest crime-fighting escapade, when Joey brings it up.

“You think any of us could do anything like that?”

Chandler throws him a disparaging look over his shoulder. “Have you _seen_ me at the gym?”

“Come on, guys,” Rachel says, as she laces her fingers with Monica’s. “I think we all know who’d stand a chance against them. Monica’s the toughest out of all of us.”

Despite the murmurs of agreement that go up amongst them, Ross snorts.

“Come on, Rachel. Monica? In a fight? Like that would never happen.”

Monica squeezes her girlfriend’s hand; they share a knowing smirk. “Of course not.”

**Author's Note:**

> this document was 30 pages long by the time i finished and i was sobbing inside, i couldn't look at this anymore. rest in peace me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Ups and Downs of Being a Superhero Girlfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165707) by [cdybedahl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdybedahl/pseuds/cdybedahl)




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